September
by WolfUnderTheMoon
Summary: All those bad memories...pain...endings...he won't wake up. With lyrics from Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day.


Disclaimer: I own everything in this except Remus and the song, both of which I would like to.

September 

'_Summer has come and passed,_

_The innocent can never last,_

_Wake me up when September ends.'_

Seven years. Seven years had gone by since the fabled last battle between Voldemort and the side of the Light. And so many people had died then…so many people…so many…so _many_…

'_Like my fathers come to pass,_

_Seven years has gone so fast,_

_Wake me up when September ends.'_

A dilapidated house stood a little way from a small village, but was unseeable from the wards placed around it. For the occupant's, and the villagers', protection. The dark red paint had peeled off the front door long ago, and the mouldering curtains were drawn, shutting out all natural light. This person did not want to be reminded of the outside world.

And inside, damp wallpaper that had been pale green long ago curled around long gashes savagely torn in wild frustration through into the plaster of the wall. And a sagging settee, its covers moth-eaten and musty, leaned precariously against a slowly crumbling wall, the house's lone tenant curled upon it, sobbing. Tears trickled down between his closed eyelids and, because of his position, tracked across his gaunt face and down onto the settee, pooling and soaking in all the time. His robes were tattered and torn, and he had not bothered to patch them recently, as he once would have. He knew there was no point, as the gashes in his clothes and the wounds on his body would only re-open again with the next full moon. Tonight.

'_Here comes the rain again, _

_Falling from the stars,_

_Drenched in my pain again,_

_Becoming who we are.'_

The moon rose slowly as the minutes ticked on, casting ethereal shadows across the village, creeping up towards the house. Most of the villagers were already asleep.

As the moon rose further, silver shafts of light crept through holes in the curtain, one going further than the rest, and illuminating the figure on the settee, who shuddered for a moment then started to twist around and out of his curled position. His back stretched and started to go broader, ripping open a long ragged tear, darned many months ago. The werewolf tumbled off the sofa, shook the shreds of its clothes from it, and sat back on its haunches, the single beam of moonlight tracing across its muzzle. Raising its snout towards the moon, faintly visible through the curtains, the werewolf howled one pure, long note of anguish, until all its memories of human life were gone. But in the back of its mind were wolf memories, from younger, happier days; remembered by the nose, not the eyes and the ears. Three other animals, not wolf-formed…the memory of their scents rose…a dog, a stag and a rat. Friends. But…not here now. Gone.

Forever…

'_As my memory rests,_

_But never forgets what I lost,_

_Wake me up when September ends.'_

The wolf snarled in anger and sadness, anger at being imprisoned in this house, when it knew its real place was out there, in the woods and in the forests, hunting, flesh…the wolf spun and lashed out at the wall, leaving another memory torn into the wallpaper.

Long hours until the dawn…

'_Summer has come and passed,_

_The innocent can never last,_

_Wake me up when September ends.'_

The settee was beyond repair now, so Remus retreated upstairs, fresh gashes on his body from the previous night, his hair now almost totally grey. One, small, sandy piece fell into his eyes, and he brushed it out again with a weary hand. He pulled himself up the steps by the handrail, his hand passing over the chunk that had been bitten out of it many years ago. When they had still been alive. So many years ago. Sirius had laughed, told him he must have been really hungry to start eating wood…

Sirius. Just one of the many who didn't deserve to die. And definitely not like that. Remus remembered Harry's scream as Sirius fell through the veil, the pain in it reflecting what Remus had felt then too, but could not express. And now…Harry was dead, dead in his last fight against Voldemort, Hermione with him. Remus still had the nightmares. Everyone he had cared for was dead. Just him left.

Just him.

The last Marauder. Ha. Why him? He should have died first, not James. James had everything to live for, a kind, loving wife, a beautiful baby boy…but Snape…_Snape_…Dumbledore had trusted him, the fool…he had told Voldemort of the prophecy, and Peter had told him where to find them…and they were dead. He had been heading there that night, to see them, but he had set off slightly late. And if he had been there on time…he could have helped…they might have lived…he could have died instead of them…

And James was dead, Sirius was dead, Peter was dead…and Remus, the most unexpected of all of them, was the last one standing.

The last Marauder.

He remembered the happy days, his days at school after they had discovered his lycanthropy, laughing, carefree, enjoying life. Never knowing that things would turn out the way they did. Maybe they would have done things differently if they had known…but maybe it was better this way.

'_Ring out the bells again,_

_Like we did when spring began,_

_Wake me up when September ends.'_

No. There was no way it could be better this way.

Dumbledore, dead at Snape's hand. The Weasleys, Bill, Fleur, and their son Claude, all dead at the hands of the Death Eaters. Ron, dead, fighting alongside his sister Ginny. Fred and George, George dead and Fred tortured to insanity for refusing to help Voldemort's cause. Arthur Weasley, still in the intensive care wing of St Mungo's, after all these years…

Many of the Order of the Phoenix, also, had been picked off alone by Death Eaters, including Hestia, Tonks, Sturgis, and Mundungus. Kingsley was the healthiest of the remainder, with a withered and useless right arm to show for what he had done in the battle.

'_Here comes the rain again,_

_Falling from the stars,_

_Drenched in my pain again,_

_Becoming who we are.'_

And Remus just lingered on, still living, in this run-down old house, the same he had purchased when he finished school. It looked a lot different now.

'_As my memory rests,_

_But never forgets what I lost,_

_Wake me up when September ends.'_

He reached his bedroom, and lay down on the mouldy sheets, spreadeagled, staring up at the ceiling. It was like a slideshow in front of his eyes, all the happy moments, friends laughing, a little baby Harry in Godric's Hollow, sitting on the back of a huge black dog, giggling and smiling…and that same child, dead in the fight, his eyes open and staring, while all around him Death Eaters ran, terrified, at the sight of their Dark Lord, finally defeated and deceased, lying crumpled nearby. Sirius going through the veil. Ginny and Ron, mown down in an unstoppable wave of figures with black masks, but still battling bravely…

'_Summer has come and passed,_

_The innocent can never last,_

_Wake me up when September ends.'_

Another day. Another September, twenty years from the last battle. The house still stands, protected by wards, and nobody will find it soon. And by then, it will be too late.

'_Like my fathers come to pass,_

_Twenty years has gone so fast,_

_Wake me up when September ends,_

_Wake me up when September ends,_

_Wake me up when September ends.'_

_Tick_

Inside the house. The same musty curtains, the collapsed sofa, a twenty-five year old calendar on the wall. The ceiling hung with cobwebs.

_Tick_

Upstairs, the same bedroom, the sheets decayed and disappearing, wallpaper peeling down the walls with damp. At the end of the bed, on the floor, a figure, lying where it fell. The same figure as before.

_Tick_

A trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. His wand lying nearby, his fingers just touching it. He's found the final way out.

_Tick_

The heartbeat slows. The fingers close around the wand, his last spell still lingering in his mind.

_Tick_

His heartbeat stops. The clock on the mantelpiece will not mark the seconds again.

He won't wake up.


End file.
